


Keep Yourself Warm

by cm (mumblemutter)



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Comment Fic, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-21
Updated: 2010-03-21
Packaged: 2017-10-08 04:55:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/72909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mumblemutter/pseuds/cm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jimmy Kirk sometimes asks for things he shouldn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Keep Yourself Warm

"I think you both are being unnecessarily cruel," Jim says, his expression bordering on a pout. It's an affecting look, to be sure. If you're twelve. Or have exceedingly low standards. Uhura does not have low standards. Neither does, from the slight shift in expression on his face, does Spock.

Sometimes Uhura imagines that she understands Spock so entirely because language isn't so much words as it is subtle communication through the tightening of the lips around a vowel or the crinkle in the eyes around a verb. This isn't the case with all species, clearly, but she likes to imagine she understands the Vulcan one at least slightly through observing Spock. Right now, Spock is communicating an extreme sense of being unimpressed, and slightly amused, all with a slight tilt of the head.

"How about I buy you another drink," Uhura says brightly, because he's her Captain, and sometimes saying no to him is a bit like kicking a puppy. Even if what that puppy is asking for is a _threesome_, of all things.

"Sure, okay." Jim looks miserable. "Bones laughs at me, you know. And then he passes out instead of letting me talk. He's kind of a mean spirited drunk, I'll have you know."

"Yes, but perhaps not tonight," Uhura says hopefully, even though McCoy disappeared hours ago, and most likely won't reappear until it's just about time for them to beam back to the ship. But it's a lovely evening, and the planet they're on serves drinks that shift colors according to the mood of the drinker, in the most delightful manner possible. Uhura asked, earlier, out of interest, what they were made of, and received a slightly convoluted answer that mostly amounts to: the liquid is alive, and it loves you and wants to make you happy, so please worship it appropriately by downing as many glasses as you possibly can.

Somewhere around here, Chekov is huddled together with Sulu, busy explaining the exact composition and properties of the drink to Sulu, and Sulu, if Uhura knows him well enough, is nodding his head in interest and waiting for such time that there's a lull in the conversation so that he can steer them in a more interesting direction. One that perhaps involves more body shots and less talking. She almost asks Jim to go and find them instead, but she likes them both too much for that.

Or maybe it's the drink, it's amplifying the natural happiness that she feels, especially when she's around Spock, turning it into a quiet buzz that she thinks renders her almost glowing, from the top of her head right down to her toes. She pushes one of the glasses that arrives at the table as if by magic towards Jim, and it immediately turns a deep, rich shade of purple. Uhura's face falls, almost in mirror of his. "Even the drink hates me?"

"Oh no, honey. Surely not. There there," Uhura says, and pats him gently on the arm.

"I feel," Spock says, when Jim finally wanders off, tragic and lonely, "Still. That I would make the better Captain."

"Mhm," Uhura says quietly, agreeably.


End file.
